Wish
by belikeacloud
Summary: Ron Weasley has plenty to wish for. He wishes his mother would stop complaining about his bad grades. His wishes his father's job wasn't so unstable and that he could afford to pass his driving test. He wishes his brother's daily taunting would come to an end. But most of all, he wishes his love wasn't desperately unrequited.
1. Prologue

**Wish: Prologue**

_**AN:** This story originally begun very differently, as a Titanic AU. Since discovering writing fanfiction at the same time as keeping a plot historically accurate is very difficult, I've decided to take the story in an entirely now direction. The characters of Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger among others belong strictly to JK Rowling and no copyright infringement is intended._

Neighbours clustered at slightly ajar doors and at their own front gates to watch him as he ran, huddling their children behind their bodies. He jumped up to the wall, down to the pavement and bent down at the gutter. His perfectly timed landing gave way for a millisecond's worth of inward breath.

"You come back here right now!"

He turned at the voice. There she was, running up the path whilst simultaneously peering at the audience that had formed along the street. She reached for the gate, only to give up at the last hurdle when the crusted paint around the edges forced the lock to remain fixed. By the time she'd abandoned her efforts, Ron was well more than a few houses down the road in the opposite direction.

"Come back!" she screeched, the hiss at the back of her throat echoing through each syllable. Her call was not powered by self-interest or hatred, but by sheer love and desperation.

He'd been out of sight for a long while before he considered where exactly he was headed to, and even though it was still raining and the sky was as grey as soot, he did not dare to stop. When the moment at which Ron was certain his mother had closed the front door right behind her and the search party she'd never think of gathering had found themselves lost in their tracks, he pressed his hands to his knees and panted long and hard.

He looked over his shoulder before slowing to a walk. He still gasped for breath, but he didn't dare stop to rest. He continued to walk slowly down the middle of the road. There was little traffic about, and when a car did come on the odd occasion, Ron stepped aside momentarily to let it pass. He raised his arm and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He moved onto a kerb and stopped under a low lamp for breath. He walked until he reached the end of each road and turned right into the next, clueless as to where he was headed as well as how long the walk was intended to last.

The rain begun to pour more heavily and his clothes were soaked through against his body. The cold chill of each gust of wind was magnified against his skin with each turn of direction. He waited for a gap in pavement and crossed over the dimly lit road. He passed the newsagents and the new block of flats, the doctor's office and the church he'd used to visit every Sunday. Everything was as dull as it always had been.

Ron eagerly anticipated these nights from the moment the ideas fell into his mind. It was the night all four of them would take another break away from the ever-decaying streets of London and set foot upon streets they'd never dared to venture down. There weren't many kids at school who liked the sorts of adventures they anticipated so greatly. If anything, late night road trips were more of an American fantasy the majority of his classmates had only witnessed in films and late night television programmes. If there was anything Ron strived for, it was not know what it was like to live a life without a half-collapsed home and screeching set of tables and chairs with barely a penny to spare.

They'd been planning for months. He and Harry had been working down in the local sweet shop and Evan and Aaron in Evan's parents' garage. The hours were long and gruelling, but doing as was expected of you and turning up on time seemed to work a charm when it came to getting through the day as easily as possible. Of course, there were always those who found it difficult to obey the commands of those in charge. Evan had thought it suitable to attempt to replace the tyres of one car with those of a much smaller vehicle and ended up costing his parents a few hundred for damage to the bodywork. Aaron had laughed and encouraged him on before he realised he was putting his job, and consequently the trip, on the line. If there was one thing they were serious about, it was driving away from London for a few nights and having the time of their lives.

By the time the hands of the church tower clock fell to eleven, Ron had reached Harry's house and begun to peel the hardly-waterproof coat from his arms and take off his gloves. Tufts of black smoke rose from above the chimney, the tell-tale sign of life. As he got closer, he could see the frozen dew last night's hailstones had left beginning to melt, trickling down over the windowpane and falling to the ground to welt in the snow. His footfall suddenly grew silent as he fell just metres away from the entrance to the cottage, the sharp chime of the pavement now gone. He begun to follow the footsteps of strangers, each one a different shape and size, over the mud and sparks of sprouting grass as he made his way to the door.

Ron shivered as he stepped beneath the cover of the trees and pushed open the iron gate, which didn't creak like his own or need a good push to break the lock. He pressed his knuckles to the door in three swift motions before pressing his arms to his side.

A frail and huddled over lady opened the door, her eyes wild and gleaming emerald. They were a cyclic almond shape, complete with misty grey ovals in the centre. She wore a well-used grey-brown tunic over a pale blue shirt, her outfit complete with a pair of ancient looking mustard yellow slippers.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice croaky and in need of repair. Her lips batted together in a nervous jitter.

"Harry, is he in?" He returned her question with another, hoping for a positive answer. Harry had spoken of his aunt many a time, though he hadn't portrayed her in a positive light. As far as Ron knew, she was still the same woman who'd hidden Harry's birthday presents when he was ten years old.

"'E's in 'is bedroom, you are?" She spoke with a strong cockney accent and a dwindling air of hatred fused with curiosity.

"Ron," he answered, extending his arm, "I'm Harry's friend."

She took his hand and shook it firmly, squeezing so hard she pressed his fingers together and forced them to intertwine.

"Do ya want me to get 'im, then?"

Ron nodded.

Harry's aunt disappeared behind the shadow of the ajar front door, leaving behind a faintly traceable sound of disappearing footsteps as she wandered up the stairs, presumably to invite Harry down to talk to Ron. He spent the next minute or so preparing what he was going to say and how exactly he was planning on keeping himself together with all of the excitement. This was it. Tonight was the night they'd been planning for.

"Ron!" Harry beamed, cascading down the stairs in an awkward rush forward. His smile lay tangent to the curved edge of his chin and was seemingly a now permanent feature of his facial depiction. He wore a sodden navy t-shirt complimented by an apparently new pair of cotton blue jeans. It seemed Harry had worked so hard earning the money to make sure tonight was the night he wanted it to be that he'd even generated enough to spare and had managed to buy himself a new pair of trousers for the first time in months.

"It's today. I can't believe it's today, Harry. Goodbye London!" Ron half-yelled, the fear of Harry's aunt overhearing him overshadowing the few remaining decibels. "I haven't been this excited since my mam announced she was going to buy us that games console when I was , Harry!" Ron threw his hands up in the air like an ecstatic child. His facial expression now mimicked Harry's. His teeth were yellow and stained with the remains of old food.

"Know where Aaron and Evan are? They're still coming, right?"

"Right," Ron nodded, "they weren't at home when I knocked this afternoon. Told Aaron's grandma they were working late tonight. She didn't suspect a thing, you know. Grabbed her 'little boys' by the cheeks and squeezed them as hard as she could before wishing them good night and smiling at their attempt to work hard for once in their lives. She was half right at least – they have been working bloody hard. Aaron, at least."

Harry snorted. "I never expected Evan to take work seriously anyway. He's not the type."

"Ah well," Ron sighed, raising his eyebrows, "at least we've got enough cash to last us a good few nights, right?"

The two chucked, their grins growing ever wider.

"Tonight's the day, Ronald," Harry begun, breaking the laughter, "tonight's the night we leave London."

The church bell rung twelve times as the clock stuck midnight. Tonight was the night.

They rode at a steady forty miles per hour along the empty motorway, Harry glancing in the side mirrors as he turned to check on the nonexistent cars. The streetlamps provided little source of light, their amber radiation bounding back off the car's wing mirror's and into their eyes. Ron leaned in to turn on the radio, hoping it would ease the argument between Aaron and Evan as Alice concentrated on the road. The high way stretched far beyond the glare of the headlights and the blackness of the surrounds made him feel uneasy.

"Why so uptight, Ron?" Aaron asked, "this is supposed to be the night of our lives. Don't worry about what the old folks back home will say when you return, think of the present. You're with your three best friends on an empty road in the middle of the morning with nothing but the sound of the tyres screeching against the tarmac to distract you. Loosen up, mate."

"Shut up, Aaron." Ron muttered. This _was_ supposed to be the night of their lives, though their planning had been of no worth so far. Aaron and Evan's backseat argument had put everything on edge. Aaron had sacrificed the family business and now Evan's parents were worrying about whether they'd be able to pay the bills in time this month. Evan was the one who didn't take work down in the garage seriously and he was the real reason his parents were in such a situation. They'd always fought, but Ron had convinced himself that tonight wasn't the night for such quarrels.

"Yeah, shut up, Aaron. You know what everybody's thinking. You're ruining tonight with your petty little argumentative attitude. You didn't have to come along." The bickering begun once more, Evan's comment fuelling Aaron's anger.

Harry rolled his eyes; the lack of sleep starting to get to him. He was only an hour into the time scheduled for his turn to drive. His foot ached as it pressed against the wheel and his finger jerked on the wheel. "Shut it, both of you!"

His vision grew cold and empty. Swear dripped down from his forehead and an almighty sound echoed in each of their ears. A hand flew in his direction, desperate to grab the wheel. Seconds lay frozen on the clock as not one of them dared to blink. Ron crashed against the side door window. Evan and Aaron lunged forwards in their seats and smashed their heads against the chairs in front of them. Harry fell forward, his head landing on the wheel, his body crying in pain. But the tears were not crystalline or transparent. Their viscosity and colour gave everything away. Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and his breaths fell silent.

Nobody but the almighty power had planned this.


	2. Chapter 1

**Wish: Chapter One**

"Fuck off, Joe," one voice grunted as it paced slowly down the brightly lit corridor. The grunts echoed off each of the brick walls and straight into Fred and George's ears.

"Alright, Ronald?" George asked, pulling at the crown of his brother's red hair and smiling. "What's the matter now then? Teacher set you so much homework you've decided to sulk about it? It's the only way you'll learn, little brother. You never see Fred and I complaining about school work. Ever."

"Leave me alone." Ron's eyes remained fixated upon his brother's, his pupils a direct reflection of George's. The twins had been taunting him with teasing and practical jokes as long as he could remember, and they never gave in. Any attempt to send them away usually met another joke as a consequence.

"Now there, Ronald, there's no need to be so rude. We've got news for you. Pretty good news too, if you want my opinion. Am I right, Fred?" George gestured to his right and turned his gaze to find his clone nodding in complete approval.

"George is right, Ron. It's bloody brilliant news, the best we've had in ages."

"We're Weasleys. No news is good news," Ron mumbled, his tone filled with both despair and anger.

George shook his head. "No, listen here. Bloody brilliant news this is. You know that competition Fred and I signed up for a few months ago? The one that we had to answer a question about British history for and the smart girl in your year told us the answer to? Well, we only went and bloody won it."

Fred and George clenched together their fists and punched the air in synchronisation. "Bloody brilliant," Fred whispered, repeating his brother's words. Ron's face lay contrasted, his deep frown and furrowed eyebrows exempt from the elation.

"Fucking brilliant for you two. How will I benefit from the prize? Oh, I know, I fucking won't." He rolled his eyes to emphasize his annoyance.

"Not true," Fred started, "we'll take you for a drive in it. We can drive around town together next week, maybe stop off for a joke birthday present for Ginny along the way."

"I already have a gift for her." Ron shrugged his shoulders whilst shaking his head. "Besides, I wouldn't want any of you to fucking die along the way."

A tall, copper-haired young man walked in their direction, Ron's back to him. He was apparently a good few years older than them, the lines above his eyebrows a hint of the deep concentration he spent most of his days in and the hours of studying he'd put in whilst a student at the school. He wore a navy polo-neck jumper and beige trousers met with black polished shoes on his feet. Pinned to his chest was a red badge stating his name and occupation within the school. He'd begun teaching advanced level history two years back, when he'd passed all of his exams with distinctions.

"You'll be in trouble at home if mother finds out about your potty mouth," he remarked, grabbing Ron by the shoulder and turning him around on his heels. "You know she doesn't like to hear you swear, Ronald, and neither do I. Besides, how do you expect to make a prefect next year with a vocabulary like that?"

Ron stared Percy up and down before pushing his hand off of his shoulder with a sweaty palm. "I don't fucking care what you think. And I don't want to be a fucking prefect.

Percy pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to form a sound of disapproval. He rolled his eyes just as Ron had done a few minutes ago and pulled his brother forward by the strings of his hooded jacket. "That is no way to talk to your older brother, Ronald Weasley. Don't expect me to associate with you if you're going to treat me like that. Respect your elders, did you never take a religious education class?"

Ron gulped, blinking as quickly as he count to retain the water threatening to well in his eyes. He had taken a class in religion a few months back. He and Harry had decided it would be the easy option as far as extra curricular classes were concerned, and had spent the majority of the lessons passing notes around the class and talking between themselves. Since the accident, Ron had never attended another of the classes. He'd never bothered to provide an excuse as to his absence either, but none of the teachers seemed to have gathered up enough courage to ask him why he no longer studied the course. Nobody talked to the boy who's best friend had died in a tragic car crash.

"Alright then Percy, let him go. You're going to end up bloody strangling him the way you're holding those strings." Percy let go of Ron's jacket and watched him fall back against the lockers.

"I don't think that's any way for a teacher to behave, Mr Weasley," George joked. He pressed his index finger to Percy's name badge and tapped twice. Just like the prefect badge Percy had gained all those years ago, the name badge had received a similar celebration. Percy had shown everybody in the neighbourhood the day he was given it. Even the old lady who sat in the armchair every day of her existence on the edge of town had managed to hear the news.

"Shut it, George," Percy snapped, "or I'll tell mother about all of your behaviour. Now hurry along to class or you'll all be late."

The group departed quickly, each heading off in different directions. Ron shoved his backpack over his shoulder and continued down the corridor, head down and eyes on the ground.

He stepped foot into his biology class a few minutes before the bell rung. There were only a handful of other students in the room, much to Ron's delight. A petite blonde girl sat on the front row, her studded earrings and matching necklace framing her face. Her lemon-coloured cardigan complimented the pale floral patterns upon her summer dress, the ribbon in her hair an identical colour. A year ago she'd been Ron's biggest love interest. Behind her was a group of boys clustered around one desk, their eyes fixed intently upon one mobile phone in the middle of the table. Ron took his seat alone at the back of the class, setting his books down on the desk and throwing his backpack under his feet.

The room filled up quickly and within a few minutes the bell had chimed and a flurry of students had sat themselves down. By the time the remaining few found their way to their desks, very few empty chairs remained. The teacher hurried late-comers in and shut the door behind her. Around Ron, every chair stood occupied with the exception of that joined to his desk. Most students had managed to set our their stationary in front of them, accompanied by their brand new binders that were destined to become filled with equations barely any of them would remember until final exams came around.

The teacher clapped her hands together to silence the class. "Right," she began, "I know a lot of you didn't expect to be in this class, but we've decided you're all capable of achieving the top grades. Let me remind you all that this class is compulsory and for your own benefit. It might well be another class on top of your many other, but you've been hand-picked as the students with the most potential in your whole school year. If you choose to attend this class regularly, you'll be perfectly able to complete the higher level paper by the time June comes around and exams begin. Now, where shall we start?"

The first ten minutes of the lesson went by uninterrupted. Ron twiddled his thumbs and clicked the end of his pen as each second passed by. His boredom was uncomparable, the daunting prospect of failing to understand anything explained playing on his mind. He'd only been placed in the class because his parents had requested it. They'd insisted Ron had 'great potential' when speaking to his previous tutor. The expression on her face upon hearing this had been one of both confusion and disapproval, but her response did not contend with the expression on her face. She'd agreed to give Ron a chance on the gifted programme along with Harry before Christmas. Ron hadn't minded the prospect whilst Harry was in the picture, yet he was beginning to consider asking his parents to withdraw him from the class only a few minutes in.

As soon as the group of students had managed to settle themselves down and apparent mobile phones had been replaced in exchange of stationary and textbooks, the lesson had gotten off to a start. The teacher - who had introduced herself as Mrs. Rosenburg - was in the middle of beginning to explain the concept of diffusion when her class was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"I'm sorry I'm late," the faint voice explained, pushing the door open and walking in.

Mrs. Rosenburg lent the studious-looking girl a concerned look as she hurried into the room carrying a stack of textbooks and notebooks.

"I'm afraid you'll have no choice as to where you sit, Miss..." She lent over the list of names on her computer screen before finding the row highlighted in red, "Miss Granger. We have a lot to do and there are a lot of students throughout the year that would do anything to be in your position right now. There will be no more excuses for lateness or any other form of lack of punctuality or attendance. You're here to learn, not to draw attention to yourself."

The girl nodded and sat herself down next to Ron. He shuffled awkwardly closer to the wall and kicked his bag over with him. She looked straight ahead, smiling and blinking quickly whilst avoiding eye contact.

"By the end of the academic year," Mrs Rosenburg explained, "you'll each have taken two exams in biology and have completed an assignment task in groups of two."

Ron's heart stopped. He'd hated the idea of working in groups ever since having to and from walk to school alone every morning and evening.

In a moment of panic and dread, he managed to knock his textbook off of the desk in front of him and it landed with a thud as it hit the ground. Everyone turned around to face him, the smirks on their faces hitting him hard.

"Nice once, Weasley," Derek Roberts laughed. He was bald-headed and wore gold studs in both ears, apparently deeming him worthy of the role as most popular male in the fifth year. "If only your little friend was still here, he might be able to stand up for you."

Mrs Rosenburg struggled for silence, marching to Derek's desk and whispering a warning in his ear.

"At least he has a better attitude than you." The voice came from Ron's side. He turned around to see the petite brown haired girl beside him on her feet.

The teacher hurried over to the other side of the room where she sat, the glare emerging as she turned in her direction threatening and filled with aggression. "Now there Miss Granger, that'll be quite enough. I'll see you after class for a stern chat. I hope this was the very last time we'll be seeing that sort of behaviour from you." She raised her eyebrows and waited for Hermione to be seated.

Ron spent the rest of the lesson smiling in Hermione's direction, but to no result. Her eyes remained intently on the front of the room as she scribbled down each equation and fact our of Mrs Rosenburg's mouth.

When the lesson came to a close, Ron stood up and tucked in his chair, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and walking out of the door. He'd thought of whispering _thank you_ in her ear, but realised he'd do nothing but make a fool of himself. As he turned his back on the classroom and prepared to walk to the lunch room, he found himself stopped in his tracks. Through the grimy, scratched window etched in the middle of the door he could see Hermione and Mrs Rosenburg at the front of the room. She was close to tears, her shoulders raised up high as she was readily undermined.

She'd stood up for him when she hadn't a clue who he was. Peering inside of the room one final time, Ron dropped his backpack against the wall and pressed his fingers to the door handle.


End file.
